


'Tis but a Scratch

by DeadlyBingo



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), olicity - Fandom
Genre: F/M, olicity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 03:29:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6313645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeadlyBingo/pseuds/DeadlyBingo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based in early season 4, Oliver tries to stitch up an injured (and slightly loopy) Felicity after she has taken some of Diggle's special aspirin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Tis but a Scratch

**Author's Note:**

> This early season 4 one-shot is based on an anonymous prompt I received on tumblr (at deadlybingo): "...could you write something where Felicity has been a little bit shot (lol i mean like in 2x14) and this time it’s Oliver who stitches her up and Diggle is still waiting and not looking at her, kind of a throwback to 2.14 but with an established olicity thank you!"

“Felicity, hun, _please_ stop swaying,” Oliver pleaded, amusement edging its way into his voice despite his best attempts to remain focused.

Felicity centered herself for a moment, her brow furrowing in concentration as she took a deep breath, and then began swaying slightly slower in a misguided effort to comply with her boyfriend’s request.  The smile on her face as her upper body rocked to an unheard beat _almost_ made Oliver forget, just for a second, the chaos of an hour earlier.

But he couldn’t forget.  Even as she smiled and laughed and promised him she wasn’t in any pain, he wouldn’t _let_ himself forget. He had once again put Felicity in harm’s way.  And now, every night, another scar would remind him of his failure to protect her.

“ _Last time_ -” Felicity’s face lit up as she spoke.  Her words came out a little slurred, and slower than usual, but it seemed she had just as much to say. “-can you _believe_ I’m the type of person who can say _LAST_ _TIME_ I was shot? Like I’m some kind of _badass_?- But _as_ I was saying, _last time_ I was _shot_ Jooohn told me these were just special _aspirin_ ,” Felicity shot to look at Diggle, who stood with his back to her, as Oliver stitched her up as she sat on the edge of her metal desk. “But they’re _not_.  I figured that _out_ , John!  Because I took THREE instead of TWO like you what you told me to take and now I can _not_ think _normal_.  And _assspirin_ does not make your brain… not think… like a brain.  And I do _not_ think you have proper prescriptions for these.”

* * *

 

Though it had become _easier_ to work once Felicity’s pain medication had kicked in, Oliver still had to take the occasional deep breath the re-steady his hands before making another stitch. This was, after all, his Felicity.  And try as he might to see closing the bullet wound as a familiar task, he found himself more anxious than any of those times he had sutured himself.

“Hun, _please_ stop moving or I’ll need Digg to hold you still,” Oliver threatened, patting Felicity’s thigh to gain her attention.  

“He _won’t_ ,” Felicity argued, “he doesn’t even want to turn around because I don’t have a _shirt_ on.” When John chuckled across the platform, Felicity’s eyebrows rose in shock that he could hear her ‘whispering.’ “John, why won’t you turn around?” Felicity called out even louder, “I don’t care if you look over here cause I’m still wearing a bra!  Which is basically like a bathing suit!  Is it because you don’t want to look or you think Oliver will go into jealous boyfriend mode? Cause Barry and like half the people are STAR labs saw me changing one time and Oliver hasn’t hurt _any_ of them.”

“Was this before or after he shot Barry _for training_?” John questioned, his shoulders straightening.

“Oliver, you didn’t shoot Barry because you were _jealous_ , did you?  We weren’t even _together_ yet.”

“He was a little too confident in his speed to protect him,” Oliver explained casually, squinting at the wound as he debated whether he needed one or two more stitches.  

An unsuppressed grin spread across Felicity’s face, “I think you _were jealous_ ,” she accused with a slight smile, “I should feel worse about that, right? At least even a _little_ guilty?  Barry is my _friend_.”

“Nah,” Oliver assured her, “you don’t have to feel bad. He’s fine.”

“You’re just saying that so youuu don’t have to feel bad!  I’ll bring this up again tomorrow when I remember to be mad!”

Oliver couldn’t help but chuckle this time.  He had no doubt Felicity would question his motivation for shooting Barry with those arrows but unfortunately, he wouldn’t have an answer for her.  At the time, he honestly thought he just wanted to teach the boy a lesson about being too cocky around adversaries.  But thinking back on it now, jealousy _might_ have played a role too.  

“Oliver?” Felicity questioned, beginning to swing her legs as Oliver grabbed the pair of scissors beside him to finish off her stitches, “Why didn’t you look _last time_?  When _Sara_ was stitching me up?”

Oliver ignored her question, hoping she’d get distracted by any other thought, and instead tried to look focused on examining his handiwork.  Oliver remembered that night perfectly.  The horror of realizing Felicity was hurt, Sara’s quick offer to stitch her up when Oliver hesitated at the thought of causing Felicity any more pain, and, of course, his quiet suggestion to Diggle that they turn around as Sara cut Felicity’s shirt off for easier access to the wound. But that wasn’t a story he wanted to share at the moment.  Not with Diggle as an audience.

But when Oliver didn’t answer right away, Felicity just asked again, “ _Why_ didn’t you look?  I know you thought I was _pretty_. Were you worried you’d get-”

“ _AND_ I’m all done,” Oliver announced loudly enough that Felicity’s entire face flinched, “we can get you all dressed now and head home for some good rest.”

“You don’t wanna answer my question,” Felicity pouted. “I’m hurt.  You _have_ to answer my question!”

“How about I go put away the med kit so you two can get her ready to leave?”  John offered as he turned around, pointedly looking to Oliver rather than Felicity, who still held Oliver’s button up shirt in her lap.

‘Yeah, sounds good…” Oliver agreed, bringing the tray over before returning to Felicity and taking the shirt into his hand.

Once Diggle had disappeared from the room, Oliver gently straightened Felicity’s left arm, only sliding the shirt on when she showed no sign of pain. “I wanted to look,” he finally admitted, his voice quiet despite Digg’s absence.

“So why _didn’t_ you?”

“Because I _wanted_ to look,” Oliver said again, crossing to Felicity’s right side to bring the second sleeve up her other arm.  Usually, he _loved_ seeing Felicity in his shirts.  There was something about how big they were on her, the way the collar was never tight around her neck and the cuffs went just past her fingertips.  Or maybe it was just that she usually wore them without any pants?  But either way, he wasn’t able to enjoy the sight in the same way tonight.

“That doesn’t make sense…” Felicity pouted. “You didn’t look because you _wanted_ to look? Nope, definitely makes no sense.”

“Part of it was that I didn’t like seeing you hurt, of course.  But I also I realized that night that I wanted to look.  I wasn’t _supposed_ to want to look,” Oliver explained with a sigh, “you were just a friend, remember? I was worried about what else I’d… _feel_ if I looked. I knew it would change things.”

The goofy grin faded from Felicity’s lips as Oliver’s words finally broke through her mental wall and for a second, he thought he might actually have his girlfriend back.  But of course, moments later, Felicity was grinning once again.

“Man, I’m gettin’ good at this whole getting stitched up thing!” Felicity announced, pushing the shirt back off her shoulder and twisting her arm to eye Oliver’s handiwork. “Maybe next time I’ll stitch _myself_ up!”

The words hit Oliver in the chest and he paused on the shirt’s first button.  It wasn’t just that Felicity suggested there _would_ be a next time that bothered him, but that she was so casual, so confident about it that she felt okay making a joke.  And, as much as he tried to remind himself that it was the drugs talking, he knew the comment hid a bit of truth.

“There won’t be a next time,” John answered for him, walking back onto the platform as he patted his hands dry with a paper towel.

“I was just sayin-”

Oliver let go of the shirt and instead took her face gently into his hands, “There _won’t_ be a next time,” Oliver repeated, stepping closer and watching her eyes until she gave a tiny nod of understanding.

As Oliver finished buttoning the shirt, Felicity was suspiciously quiet for someone who had talked nearly non-stop for the last thirty minutes.  It wasn’t until he held out a hand to help her down from the desk that Felicity finally revealed what she was thinking.

“I chose this,” she stated, clearly focusing on keeping her tone even.

“Felicity…”

“No, I _chose_ this.  You _know_ I chose this,” Felicity paused to regain her train of thought,“Don’t do your _guilty Oliver_ thing because I got too close to the fighting this time.”

“I won’t-” Oliver began but Felicity cut his lie off by slapping his chest.

“Say I’m sorry,” she demanded.

“What?”

“Just _say_ it.”

“I’m sorry Felicity… I’m so sorry I wasn’t close enough to keep this from happening.” As much as he had wanted to apologize, Oliver hated saying the words out loud.  Hated having to hear himself say the words _yet again_.  It was his fault for agreeing that she could be in the van instead of back at the bunker.  This never would have happened if he had insisted she stay in the bunker.

“I accept,” Felicity said with a smile, leaning forward to kiss him but almost falling off the table as she lost her balance.

“Careful there,” Oliver laughed, propping her back up and stretching up to kiss her forehead.

“Now you’ve apologized, and I’ve accepted, and we’re _all_ done with you feeling bad.  Okay?” Felicity announced, her voice regaining its earlier giddiness, “You heard it, right, John?  No more guilty Oliver!”

“I heard it,” Diggle agreed.

Oliver shook his head, positive he would still deliver a mountain of apologies in the morning.  But for now, all his could do was help Felicity down from her spot atop her desk.

“‘TIS BUT A SCRATCH!” Felicity announced suddenly in a voice Oliver assumed was an English accent.

“Well, it’s a bit more than a scratch, Felicity-”

“It’s just a flesh wound!” Felicity continued, her accent slowly obtaining an Australian inflection.

“It’s _Monty Python,_ Oliver,” Diggle explained before Oliver could reply again.  “It’s from _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_.”

Felicity groaned loudly as Oliver placed a hand on her back to encourage her to hop off the table, “Which I try to get him to watch alllll the time  And allllll he wants to watch are boring action movies because he think he can do all of that stuff.”

“But I _can do all-_ ” Oliver stopped with a sigh, knowing he wouldn’t be able to win an argument with a sober, let alone drugged, Felicity.  “How about we go home and watch the movie?”

“And you’ll make me dinner?” Felicity asked hopefully, “I think these drugs are going to my head…”

Oliver let out a laugh, wrapping an arm around Felicity’s waist as Digg led the way out of the bunker, “And I’ll make you anything you want.”

* * *

 


End file.
